Elamanelessa
by eschaton37
Summary: A parody of the Mary Sue type characters prevalent in Tolkien fan fiction. Includes the effects of nuclear tests on elvish fea, the reuniting of the Silmarils, and Feanor in love. 6 of a planned 9 chapters up.
1. Arrival in Lothlorien

A/N: Yes, this is a parody. No offense is intended to anyone; I just like playing with the clichés. The name Elamanelessa is again a parody, just a whole bunch of Elvish elements jammed together without rhyme or reason.

Elamanelessa had been riding for fifty hours without a rest. She was beginning to become tired. Thus, it was with relief that she now came upon a forest path guarded by an elf with a bow. With a noble mien, she drew up the reins, forcing her golden stallion to a halt. She challenged the strange Elf. "Who are you?"

"Who am I?" the elf replied with scorn. "I should be asking you that question. What is a wild Elf doing in Lothlorien?"

"I am Elamanelessa, among many other names. And I am no wild elf. My mother was Amarie of the Vanyar, the Light-elves; my father was Tulkas the Strong, greatest warrior among the Valar. Now, little wood-elf, tell me your name."

The elf stiffened in anger, but subsided when he looked into Elamanelessa's flaming emerald eyes, twinkling with the promise of disaster to anyone who crossed her. Seeing that terrible, scimitar-like gaze, he could well believe that this strange woman came of divine roots. "I am Bargil. I must take you to Lord Celeborn."

The azure-haired maiden allowed herself to be led, maintaining a noble mien, towards the elven palace, commenting sarcastically on the quality of the landscaping in Lothlorien the whole way.

"Lord Celeborn!" Bargil cried. The mighty palace doors swung open. An older Elf emerged from the mighty stone fortress. His eyes passed over Bargil, but when he saw Elamanelessa, he bowed before her.

Bargil looked thoroughly puzzled; Elamanelessa smirked.

"You are the prophesied child of Tulkas who will save us from the coming fading of the Elves!"

"So I am," Elamanelessa replied, "but how did you know?"

"Your appearance is not mortal; even the high and noble races of the Elves do not tend toward blue hair, as your father Tulkas has. Your mighty yet supple muscles provide another clue. Also, you are taller even than my wife Galadriel. But one more test must be passed."

"Yes?" she said, in a dry, bored tone.

"Do you have the holy blade Ringil, wielded by Fingolfin? It is said that the true Savior of the Elves will bear that sword."

Drawing her scintillating sword from the scabbard at the hip with a flourish full of panache and style, Elamanelessa answered without words.

"You are the Most Chosen One indeed!" Celeborn exclaimed in a voice full of reverent worship and veneration, falling to one knee.

At that moment, they were interrupted by a horrid roar and the stamping of mighty feet. A huge monster of darkness and fire raced upon them, flaming claws extended.

Celeborn shouted "A Balrog! Elamanelessa, get under cover!" He could not afford to risk the Savior of the Elves in battle.

Ignoring Celeborn, Elamanelessa charged into battle, drawing Ringil. The sword flashed blue in the Balrog's face, and the monster roared. It well remembered the terrible wounds this blade had inflicted on Morgoth himself. But Fingolfin had borne it then, and now only a mere girl carried it. Seeing this, the Balrog recovered and lashed out with a flaming claw, forming trails of fire that licked out towards Elamanelessa.

Swiftly parrying the flames with Ringil's blade, Elamanelessa reflected them into the Balrog's face. They did not burn the fiery monster, but it roared in frustration.

Celeborn drew his own sword and slashed the Balrog's leg. Blood like lava poured from the wound; then it closed, as the creature healed itself. In pain, the Balrog turned and raised its clawed fist, preparing to crush Celeborn's skull.

Seeing Celeborn's impending death, Elamanelessa leaped at the Balrog. Ringil cleaved off one arm as she struck from the creature's flank. She slashed again, and the shining blade sank deeply into the Balrog's evil form.

The creature shuddered, then exploded in a flash of red light. Elamanelessa wiped her sword on the grass, removing the Balrog's burning blood.

Celeborn turned to face Elamanelessa, unsteady on his feet. He bowed clumsily. "Many thanks. You are a great warrior indeed."

Elamanelessa scoffed. "It is nothing. I thought Balrogs were supposed to be powerful."

Celeborn gaped, then recovered. "There should not be Balrogs here in Lothlorien! This place is sacrosanct. I fear this bodes only ill for Middle-earth. It might be wise for me to depart. Perhaps my time is come to leave for Aman itself. I do not understand this thing. Even in the Third Age, Lothlorien was safe from the minions of the Enemy. Now that it lies on Tol Eressea, it should be doubly protected. "

Elamanelessa realized the truth in a flash. "It has been four Ages since Galadriel put the spells on Lothlorien that moved it here. Perhaps those spells need to be renewed, and Lothlorien is beginning to reconnect to Middle-Earth."

"That would be terrible! If this forest returned to Middle-Earth entirely, the mallorns would wither, and we would fade into ghosts. And I cannot renew the spells. My power is not as great as that of Galadriel, and she is lost to us." Tears trickled down his face.

At the very beginning of the Seventh Age, Galadriel had ill-advisedly returned to Middle-Earth to learn about the civilizations humans had built without the aid of Elves. Unfortunately, she found herself on the receiving end of an atom bomb test, near ground zero. Generally, when an Elf's body is killed, its spirit returns to Namo in the halls of Mandos, and it may after a time gain a new body. However, it is an odd trait of Elvish spirits that they are destroyed by ionizing radiation at intensities more than ten or twenty times greater than the background level. Thus, Galadriel's spirit was dispersed on the fallout-laden wind, spreading throughout the world, lost forever to the Elves as Luthien was. Elven custom did not provide for the complete annihilation of an Elf; thus, it was uncertain if Celeborn could properly remarry.

Celeborn spoke through his tears, troubled. "But even in Middle-Earth there are no more Balrogs, it is said. Middle-Earth is all Men now, Men and their cities and machines."

Elamanelessa replied softly, "I had thought so too. But it seems the Balrogs are returning – perhaps from the Void where their master Morgoth was cast; perhaps from the depths of Udun."

Reinvigorated by this thought, Celeborn straightened. "Then we must call the Elves together to prepare. If the brood of Morgoth will bring war to us even beyond the Sea to the Undying Lands, then they will find us ready for them."


	2. Preparation for War Begins

-1Lothlorien resounded with the shouts of elves. The whole forest was filled with bowyers making bows, fletchers making arrows, and archers honing their skill. Celeborn was practicing his swordsmanship.

Elamanelessa came upon him in a field, practicing fencing with blunted swords. He was practicing against another Elf. When their match ended, she walked up to him. "May I practice?" she asked, smiling.

"Certainly!"

They began to duel. Within twenty seconds, Elamanelessa had knocked Celeborn's sword out of his hand and toppled the Elf, who lay gasping on the forest floor.

Bargil had been sent as a messenger to Valinor to ask for the aid of a cohort of well-armed Vanyar. Another messenger had departed to seek Elwing at the Tower of Seabirds, in hopes that she could convince her husband Earendil to join the defense of Elvenhome. When Elamanelessa discovered this, she went to Celeborn.

"I hear you have sent for aid. Is our situation so dire? I thought Lothlorien had warriors of its own."

"It does, but we are for the most part Silvan Elves and no match for Balrogs. Only the greatest Elves can stand against the Valaraukar one on one, and even then it is a terrible risk."

"You have called for the Vanyar. Would you not rather have better aid?"

"The Vanyar are the mightiest of all the Elves in Arda, as you well know –"

"Of course; I am half Vanya myself," Elamanelessa interrupted. "But actually that is not true. Feanor, a Noldo, was the greatest of all the Eldar."

"That is indeed true, though Feanor could be terrible indeed; but he is gone from among us. It is prophesied that he will not return from Mandos until the End."

"And what makes you certain the End is not upon us? Have you ever heard of Balrogs coming to Tol Eressea? Is that in any prophecy? It is said that the Great Enemy will fight again on the fields of Aman at the End."

Celeborn faltered. "Perhaps." An expression of awe crossed his face. "Perhaps it is indeed come. But how would you send word to Feanor locked in the Halls of Mandos? And why would he honor your request? He did not respect the Valar; and I think the Vanyar seemed like pets of the Valar to him. I do not think he would obey you."

"I need not request. I can force him here. I have power over unbodied spirits, whether they be in Mandos or not."

"But that would be - " Celeborn showed mixed amazement and horror.

"Necromancy, I know. It is said in ancient texts that necromancy is the art of Sauron. But think, O little lord in your diminished realm! You know my lineage; you have seen my skill. I am not of the race of Eldar alone, but the mighty Valar as well. It is the necromancer's art to call upon those spirits that did not go to Mandos, but lingered in Middle-earth. Not as Elvish necromancer, but as Vala, will I call upon Feanor. It is given to the Valar to guide and direct the Elves in Arda. Thus this is permitted to me, in this time of need."

Celeborn's expression cleared. "Perhaps. But I must ask, if you plan to make this experiment, that you do so in a barren place far from here. If something goes wrong – some spirit from the Enemy comes instead - Tol Eressea might well be at risk."

Elamanelessa looked at him with an arch expression. "Do you think I would fail? I will demonstrate."

She concentrated; a blue light wreathed her head, shoulders, and curled hands. The earth began to shake. A bolt of lightning descended from the sky, striking the ground in a flash and a glowing mist. When the mist cleared, an old man, his face graven with sorrow and guilt, stood there. He bowed before Elamanelessa and said gravely, "Curunir at your service, my lady Valachil. May it expiate my previous deeds."

Celeborn stood gaping. "You should not have done such a thing in my realm! This Istar was a traitor - how can you trust him?"

Elamanelessa smiled and sang a note of music, piercing with its power. "He is now bound to me forever - or until I release him."

"Still, I must insist that you raise the spirit of Feanor far from here. Perhaps Avathar would be far enough away. I will send my greatest warrior and sorcerer with you. I see that you need no protection; still, someone to watch your back might be useful in dark Avathar."

He waved his hand. A tall being, seemingly of none of Arda's races, appeared. He was tall as a noble Elf, broad as a Dwarf, with the facial features of a Man. He spoke in a rough voice: "I will guide you to Avathar. Are you Elamanelessa?"

"Here in twilit Elvenhome, I am Elamanelessa, the Valachil. In Middle-earth I have names beyond counting. Estelle is one of my names in this Age. In those lands I was Athena in the Fifth Age of the World, and heroes beseeched my aid. Longer ago even than that I was Luthigond, Stone of Enchantment, in Gondor, and Eriadorelen, Star of Wilderland, before Smaug the Dragon burned Dale. But my true name, given to me when I was born in Beleriand that now is gone, is Lindoniundomiloth -the Twilight Flower of Lindon. If you wish to hear, I will tell you something of myself and my family. My ancestry and my tale is long and woeful."


	3. Elamanelessa's Story

"My mother was Amarie. Though she is counted among the Vanyar due to her paternal lineage, she is the daughter of Luthien Tinuviel and Similos of the Great Sword, her first love. Similos was Vanya on his father's side and Dwarvish on his mother's. He wandered off in grief after Luthien married Beren and fought the forces of Sauron. He was called the Liberator of Near Harad in the Second Age; his sword drank blood of Orc, Spider, Warg, and Dragon. Unfortunately, he was captured by all twelve Nazgul - though he slew three of them - and taken to Sauron, who slowly transformed him into the Orc Lord Haghisisn. Thus, the blood of the Valar, the Maiar, the Eldar, the Khazad, and the Uruks is mixed in my veins. This gives me power over all the elements and regions of Arda: the powers of air (Misty Mountains), earth (Moria), ether (Valinor), fire (Mordor), and water (the Sea). I am also a necromancer, and a sorcerer with the cold, gravity, heat, and magnetic energies, since my grandfather Haghisisn was a sorcerer-lord of Angmar.

When I was a mere few centuries old, I traveled to Numenor. I lived there for millennia. When the Great Armament of Ar-Pharazon reached Aman and Numenor began to sink, I flew in Vala form back to Middle-Earth. I fought in the War of the Last Alliance of Elves and Men against Sauron; it was only my spells, calling up infernal flame from the earth and summoning bolts of lightning and storms of wind from the sky to burn, shock, and scatter his Orcs, that allowed Gil-galad and Elendil to reach Sauron and strike him down with Aiglos and Narsil.

In the Third Age, I dwelt for a while in the far North, purifying the ocean and warding it against evil with power like my great-grandmother Melian did in Doriath. Late in that Age, a large flock of Dragons began to plunder the north; I slew many of them, but this prevented me from learning about the Ring until after it had been destroyed. As the Ents in Middle-earth began to die out, I tried to raise Beleriand from the ocean's depths to provide a refuge for them, but my power was not yet great enough.

For three more Ages I explored the seas, hoping to find the Silmaril that legend says is sunk into their depths; I had no success, but in one sea-coast nation I was worshipped as goddess of wisdom."

"You remember Numenor! How old are you then?"

"You know it is not polite to ask that of a lady!" Elamanelessa laughed. "I do not know myself, nor does it matter. Despite my mixed ancestry, I seem to be immortal; at least, I am many thousand years old and still seem young. I do not know whether I would share the fate of Ainur, Elves, or Men at death; but I do not plan to die."

"It should be clear after this many millennia. You were in Middle-earth for so long; did you begin to 'fade' as the Elves do?"

Elamanelessa pierced him with a gaze of such intensity that dragons would have quailed. "I still have all my abilities - I can demonstrate by calling up Ungoliant for you, if you wish."

The man flinched. "Very well, I will be more guarded in my speech in the future."

"Now, to the task at hand." Elamanelessa began to sing in a high voice, notes of celestial Elvish rippling from her lips. "_Herunumen namarie, adan elessar, elen sila lumenn doriath_. _Niniel dagnir, mallorn galadhon, calaquende!_"

The earth rumbled. The very hills resonated to a single, deep note, climbing in a crescendo to volume scarcely bearable. Then the ground split open, and from a fiery rift arose a tall Elf, clothed in armor of golden steel, bearing a jewel in his hand which shone so brightly that even Elamanelessa's eyes watered. He stood easily over seven feet high; his eyes burned with a fire that the molten heart of Orodruin might have envied.

"I am Feanor, returned with the Silmaril of the Earth's depths. Who are you to call upon _me_?"

"I am Elamanelessa Valachil."

"Valachil!" His expression showed utter contempt. "And why should I respect a heir of the Valar, when I spurned Morgoth Bauglir and Yavanna Palurien? For surely my tale is remembered in these ages."

"I am mightier far than Yavanna whom you scorned, mightier than Varda in her splendor; and you are only newly come out of Mandos. You shall obey me, even if you do not respect me." Her voice carried a note of complete confidence.

Hearing this woman speak, looking upon her flawless and radiant beauty, Feanor knew, for the first time in his long existence, that he was in the presence of a superior being; something he had never felt before Mandos or Morgoth, or even Manwe. And at the same time, a worshipful love, hopeless and yet stronger for its hopelessness, was born in the heart of Feanor; so he said nothing more, but bowed before the Heir of All the Valar, and of his own free will placed the Silmaril, for which he had given up his life and wrecked the world, at the feet of Elamanelessa.

--

A/N: Now she's gotten to Feanor, too.

The "Elvish" Elamanelessa uses is just a bunch of random words and names stuck together.


	4. The Gloom in Avathar

The long trek back to Tol Eressea and Lothlorien began. Feanor took every opportunity to speak to Elamanelessa, or simply be enraptured by the grace of her smile and the soothing tones of her voice. In that voice, he heard the music of the Noontide of Valinor once more; in her eyes, Telperion and Laurelin mingled their lights again. She was gracious to him; it seemed that she did not hold the actions of his past life against him.

While he traveled, seemingly lost in rapture, Feanor planned. He knew that he must perform some deed of truly incredible difficulty to prove himself worthy - or at least less unworthy - of Elamanelessa.

Elamanelessa, for her own part, considered preparations for battle and continually tested the force of her sorcery by detonating rocks along the path of their journey.

The third member, Halnaorth the Dunadan (for such he was, despite his Dwarf-like breadth) felt small in this company. In Lothlorien, he was captain of the guard, a seer, and second only to Celeborn in many things; but he was nothing beside the mightiest of all Eldar and a half-Vala born in the Elder Days, and he knew it well.

Three days later, a strange shadow appeared on the horizon. It seemed to be cast by nothing. Cresting a small hill, they saw it for what it truly was -- and it saw them. It was Ungoliant!

The shadow-spider leapt, covering ten miles in a single bound. She landed just in front of the group. Now they could see her true size. Ungoliant was vast and bloated, so vast that Ancalagon, greatest of dragons, would seem a mere lizard. Her body was a hill, her legs vaster than towers. Her mouth, capable of swallowing two dozen men at once, opened, and her palps extended.

Feanor rose to his full height and began to chant a song of strength against the creature. But Elamanelessa stepped forward, now actually luminous with power. For a moment, her full Vala energies could be seen through the comparatively frail fleshly shell; in those instants, she lit the darkness of that canyon as a noonday sun. Ungoliant shrank and withered before the terrible radiance. But a being as mighty as Ungoliant could not so swiftly be destroyed by light alone.

"Run while you may! I can hold the Gloomweaver!"

Halnaorth fled, very glad to have an excuse to leave the scene of such a massive conflict, but Feanor would not. He could not show cowardice in front of Elamanelessa. He thrust the Silmaril towards Ungoliant; the distraction was all Elamanelessa needed. In that moment, she unleashed the full force of her sorcery, shaped by Eldarin art and backed by Valarin might. Piercing blue flame, like the light of an Elf-sword but ten million times more intense, flared into existence all around the spider-thing. Ungoliant writhed as her shadowy matter was burned away; nothing evil could withstand this. As the flame reached Ungoliant's heart, there was a vast explosion. A light burst out -- a light to make Elamanelessa's earlier noonday glow invisible beside it. Even Feanor stood stunned and momentarily blinded; Halnaorth fell, senseless, to the ground.

Elamanelessa gasped as she felt the vast energies she had just released drain from her. She touched Halnaorth on the face, gently; he awoke and recovered, only a little dazed. "Arise," she whispered, "we have a long journey still."

Feanor burned with jealousy of the attention Elamanelessa was paying to this weakling Man, with scarcely a trace of true elven blood. He could not speak up, for it would make him seem petty in the sight of this goddess; but a Man! If he, himself, was not worthy of Elamanelessa, how could this furless primate even bear her radiance and live?


	5. Plans are Made

Feanor spoke up. "You are of Men. How can you survive the Undying Lands, whose vibrant life should destroy a mortal frame?"

Elamanelessa laughed. "You do not know Halnaorth? Did you think it was but chance he was sent on this mission? Underestimate him not; he is my step-brother, son of the Valie Nessa and a forgotten king of Egypt, last stronghold of the Dunedain in the Fifth Age. He is counted among the Dunedain due to his father, and he shall share in the Gift of Men: but his is life a dozen times longer than that of Numenor's kings, and the youth unending of the Valar. An Age ago he tired of Middle-earth, and came by his mother's spells to the Undying Lands. Thus he dwells in Tol Eressea, until his time be come to pass to Mandos and beyond. But that will, I deem, not happen after all: for the Doom of the World comes swiftly on, and the Last Battle is nigh upon us."

Feanor was stunned. "The Dagor Dagorath?"

"Certainly, my dear Noldo-" and Feanor blushed at this. "It has long been prophesied that not until the End would you leave Mandos; and now it has come true."

"But must it end? The world is beautiful, as I see clearly now that I am returned to it. Must it be destroyed so soon?"

"It will be destroyed only to be renewed, Feanaro. As fair as it is now, it will rise again after the Second Music of the Ainur ten thousand times as lovely. This, you must know, was prophesied also."

"As you say, I do know. What must I do, then, my lady?"

"It remains for you to reunite the Silmarils. Their light will allow Yavanna, whom you once denied, to restore the Two Trees of Valinor, Laurelin and Telperion, of elder legend; the Sun and the Moon shall be healed of Melkor's stains and recalled to their harbors, and Valinor shall once more be fairer and brighter than all lands of Middle-earth."

"But one is lost in depths of the Sea, and one is borne by Earendil who has ancient feud with my kin. How shall they ever be reunited?"

"The Silmaril of Earth you bear already. That of the Sea will prove a greater task, but perhaps there is aid I can call upon. Earendil's Star, the Silmaril of Air, I shall obtain from him, and you will sail in Vingilot with him in the Battle."

"How then shall we find that sunken Light, the Water Silmaril?"

"Let us go to ancient Mithlond, once a harbor of the Elves. There perhaps we can call upon certain powers with which I have acquaintance."

The travelers returned to Lothlorien on Tol Eressea, where they (after much debate) obtained a ship capable of sailing the Straight Road to Middle-earth. The Teleri refused to sail any ship bearing Feanor, still remembering the Kinslaying in the Elder Days, so a crew of Sindar was chosen.

Two days after the return to Lothlorien, the ship set out upon the Bay of Eldamar and aimed for the Straight Road...


	6. The Final Preparations

The seas were roiling with live horror, tentacles lashing at their surface in a torrent of froth. Great horrors, nameless things that lurked in the deep places ere Sauron came into Arda, rose to the surface of the sea and the sunlight for the first time, in these last days. On their backs they bore the armies of Morgoth; each beast was vaster than any ship ever built by Men, a mile long from stem to stern, with tentacles twice that length studded with awful sucking disks and tremendous claws, and beaks that could swallow a dozen whales moving with horrid intent. Lesser horrors of the ocean swarmed about the army-bearing monsters.

Seven Balrogs were the champions of the evil army, armed with whips of living flame drawn from their own bodies and swords of fire forged from their own souls; they rode upon the seven greatest of the crawling dragons. A greater number of serpentine drakes slithered behind, each bearing a dozen or more Orc-troops on its back, and wargs and werewolves ridden by Orcish warriors in black armor with blades of iron formed the flanks. Often an Orc and his steed on the flank would fall into the water, and beast and rider alike would be snapped up by the sea beasts.

Above the great nightmares of the deep and the horrid legions they carried, the sky was darkened with the wings of fell beasts and the winged dragons, and the hindmost of the winged dragons was the hugest of all things that had ever flown, vaster than Ancalagon himself; and upon that dreadful steed rode Morgoth the fallen Vala full-armored in iron and onyx-crystal, with a black spear that hissed with malevolent virulence in his right hand, and in his left he bore the great shield of his blazon, black without image or sign.

Indeed all evil things advanced upon Tol Eressea, and the seas were shaken by their passage.

**Meanwhile, on the other end of the Straight Road...**_  
_

The ruins of Mithlond were utterly lost, buried under millennia of change, and only the memory of Elamanelessa guided them to the proper site, now an unmarked stretch of the Atlantic a few dozen miles from the coast of northern France. When they had arrived, she climbed onto the gunwale and swayed there, chanting Elvish words in a lovely musical voice, '_Echoriath aure, telperion lembas, caras hroa!' _as she wove a spell, her form and face glowing with a subdued blue luminescence, then jumped into the water; a huge bubble of air sustained by her elemental sorcery surrounded her as she sank to the bottom.

When Elamanelessa reached the seafloor, she plunged her hands into the bottom and cried out loudly '_Entuluva namarie!' _The mud was torn aside in a great pit descending to the very roots of Arda, and in it shone the light of the Water Silmaril. With a mere gesture it flew into her hand, and she ascended to the ship. She mutered a few inaudible sorcerous words and walked on the air over the ship's gunwale, landing gracefully next to Feanor and presenting him with the Silmaril. "Your work, I believe?"

"Thank you, my lady," the Elven craftsman replied, overawed by the nearness of Elamanelessa's beauty and the graciousness of her kindly words and actions toward him. "Ever shall I be in your debt."

"Yet shall that not be long, though till world's end it be," Elamanelessa replied playfully, "for the End approaches and the forces gather even now for the Battle of all Battles, the Last Battle, Dagor Dagorath."

"I swear my debt to you not for one world or age only," Feanor said gravely, "but for all worlds and for eternity, even after the Second Music is sung and the Elves depart Arda at last for what we know not."

"Have you not learned to avoid rash oaths even now?" Elamanelessa answered him, a twinkle of star-laughter in her eyes.

"All swear rash oaths, Elves and Men alike, when they are in love", Feanor replied, almost gulping at the admission, "and I love you."

"But what of Nerdanel?" Elamanelessa replied.

"She departed from me ages before this, even before my death."

"But it is custom of all the Eldar, and judgment of the Valar themselves, never to remarry."

"When did Feanor Curufinwe ever bow to custom or judgment of Vala or Maia, Elf or Man? And ye are Elamanelessa the prophesied, fairer than Luthien Tinuviel who was and is no more, and ye carry the authority of the Valar. You may remand the judgment, if you desire."

"Feanor, if ever I married any who live upon Arda, in Middle-Earth or Aman, it would be you; for in you alone do I find a spirit like unto mine. All other Elves and Men seem beside us two half-spirited cravens. But until this battle is won and my duty done, it is not mine to wed or speak of love. Come to me when all is won and the Second Music beginneth; then I shall take your hand in mine, and I say to you, though they would deny it now, Manwe shall hallow our union and Varda bless it, the fruits of Yavanna will fill our tables at the wedding-feast and the sleepy flowers of Lorien's gardens adorn them. Now let us set these matters aside and prepare."

Turning to the ship-captain, a tall gray-eyed Sinda, she said "Bear us out to sea some great distance, beyond the edge of sunken Beleriand."

When that had been accomplished, Elamanelessa spoke. "Great has my power waxed as the End approaches; and now it is time for me to begin my task." She gestured at the seafloor and spoke resonant words: '_Galadhon undomiel, silima feanturi!' _And there was a mighty shaking as of the foundations of Arda, and a noise as if seas and skies were rent, Feanor and the other Elves gasped in awe, and from the sea rose Beleriand with its forests and rivers, mountains and valleys, fair as had it been in the First Age; but all unpeopled. _  
_


End file.
